(Main photo courtesy of David Brown – no reproduction without permission)

Sometimes you just feel it…

Detroit is like that. A mighty city, the engine of American capitalism and epicentre of the US automotive industry. The conveyor belts in the ‘ Big D’ haven’t just carried Mustangs and Firebirds; the musical heritage of the city is wide, varied and unrivalled: the proto punk of MC5 and Iggy and the Stooges (Ann Arbor) and post punk of The White Stripes; blues: (John Lee Hooker), RnB: Hank Ballard and Jackie Wilson; Eminem, Madonna, George Clinton, jazz, techno and soul … lots of soul has all rolled off the belts.

‘Northern’ soul, Smokey Robinson, Wilson Pickett, Aretha Franklin plus the whole mind blowing roster of Motown: The Supremes, Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, Martha and the Vandellas, Gladys and her Pips, Smokey Robinson, Edwin Starr, Stevie Wonder and may many more, all ably supported by the Funk Brothers.

The City has Soul. You can feel in the streets, bars and clubs of the City; in the projects and definitely in the ‘Snake Pit’ – the recording studio at ‘Hitsville USA’.

To ‘Celebrate the Soul of the Motor City’ we have once again designed and produced a Pellicano take on the classic US button down shirt.

Iconic details such as looker hoop, closed box pleat, back of the neck third button and a deep soft button down collar are included but the foppish preppy look has been replaced with a sharp slim cut, mother of pearl buttons and a bold working class check in recognition of the blue collar workers who have driven Detroit’s prosperity.

To celebrate the sweat and swagger of the blue collar workers that power the Detroit automotive industry and the many singers, songwriters, musicians and producers that maintain the swagger and pride in a city that has fought through adversity and austerity over the last 50 years we have produced another shirt to bear the name ‘Detroit’.

Designed in London using a fine British fabric, Handcrafted in Italy, celebrating a very American city.

My last post extolled the virtues of all things nautical and in particular the joys of the male winter coat par-excellence- The Pea coat. This week continues with the sea faring theme. Indeed not only is the Breton, which originated as a working top for Brittany fishermen, synonymous with the sea but it has also become a metaphor for all things French. Like the English bowler hat or the US cowboy boot it’s impossible to disentangle said item of clothing with the place of its birth; when we think of the Breton top we picture it alongside onions, berets, bicycles and the dodgy accents of ‘Ello Ello’.

In a way the French only have themselves to blame for the power of the cliche. After all it was the Act of France in 1858 which passed the law that the Breton (or the Marinere as they call it) would become part of the official uniform for the French navy. Regardless of the fact that the Russians shortly followed suit the inherent French-ness of the Breton was confirmed. Even the stripes themselves are thoroughly linked to French history- 21 in all which represent Napoleon’s 21 victories. Indeed, the Breton’s journey to Navy wear to fashion icon was manufactured by the French Queen of haute couture herself Coco Chanel who, in 1917, made it part of her nautical collection. The result: the Breton became a key part of the female wardrobe in the interwar period with it being the item of choice for fashionable young women strutting their stuff on the French Rivera.

Rebels without a pause: James Dean, Olly Reed and Pete Doherty

But hang on- female fashion? Well, that’s the thing about the Navy. The clothing seems to be both utterly male while being simultaneously gender-less, or in hairdressing parlance- unisex. The reasons for this are hard to ascertain, possibly espadrilles, bell bottom pants, Breton tops et al. although items born of the rugged working life of the cruel sea also affect a carefree, shore leave, ‘I may have a yacht’ nonchalance which is perfectly suited to both male and female bohemians alike, sucking thoughtfully on Galoises in the seafront café bars of Cannes. Personally I think it’s the boat neck collar and looseness of fit that allows for the relaxed casualness of the Breton- stylish but unbuttoned: a working top for the underemployed. Hard wearing, simple yet somehow utterly sophisticated.

And, above all: enduring.

So much so that post war the Breton began a new life as item of choice for Duffel coat wearing Beatniks and counter-culturalists alike.

From Jean-Paul Sartre, to Pablo Picasso, to Andy Warhol the Breton became something rebellious, something different- dangerous even. In fact- Sartre and the other Jean-Paul (Gaultier who digs the Breton so much it’s the design for his perfume Le Male) aside- the reason for the Breton’s continued popularity resides not in French but, as is the case with many style items, but across the pond in Hollywood. By dressing Lee Marvin in The Wild One, and James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause in Bretons it became cemented as an item of non-conformity. Grunge God Kurt Cobain was never without his.

Paul and Kurt ‘rock the look’!

So, as with the Pea Coat- which is its perfect partner- the Breton is nothing if not versatile. Working wear, high fashion, existential angst and rebelliousness all in one it seems as changeable as the sea from whence it came. Not so much a fixed item of clothing but a mirror to the times in which we live. So, that’s why I’m going to bet my boat and predict the Breton is going to have a massive resurgence circa 2017- again as an item of (stylish) counter-cultural resistance. For, if 2016 was the annus horribiles for progressives (Trump, Brexit, Le Pen) 2017 has to be the time when we roll up our sleeves, get on the streets and fight back. In short- it’s time to earn your stripes and once again big up the Breton!

Pellcicano guest reviewer Rick Thomas get to grips with the grooves of a modern authentic soul 45:

“Every once in a while a record comes out that blows you away, this is one of those. from the opening drum beat my feet were tapping and head was nodding to the rhythm!

Then Tamika’s voice came in, this is a singer with a real soul voice, the sound grabs you and shakes you up, pure passion. Tamika’s vocal range suits this song, the song would light up any dance floor, and would grab attention of anyone if blasted from a jukebox! Tanika could be compared to many real singers, I read a review saying her voice is like Amy Winehouse, this may be based on the sound of the record, but I feel Tanika has a unique sound, pushed to a comparison I might go for Betty Wright. This record has the swing and groove of a real soul record, the instruments are powerful, they dip in and out to bring Tamika’s voice to the forefront, the harmonies are pure Motown style, I can’t wait for the album, if you haven’t heard this song catch it and add to your collection, the soul single of 2017!

Author, fashionista and friend of Pellicano Paolo Hewitt kindly gave us 5 minutes from his writing schedule to have a chat.

“Was sat in a library thinking about Ronnie Lane when the phone rang. It was Mick, head of Pellicano Menswear. He wanted to know what I thought about popover shirts. I knew only one, that worn by Jagger on Ready Steady Go. ‘There are others,’ he told me. Let me send you some pics.’

They arrived an hour later. There were shots of Kennedy, Agnelli and the Beach Boys wearing the style. But what really caught my eyes were the shots of Miles and Dylan wearing them. At various points these men have dressed exquisitely.

Agnelli Miles JFK

Bob Steve

I called him back. ‘I like the shirt’s fluidity,’ I told him, ‘the way it can move between peasant and sharp looking. Let’s make some.’

A Ghost in the Machine

A review of ‘Dread Times’ – the latest album from Dreadzone

Arriving as a fresh face twenty something in early 90’s London I remember having a musical epiphany of sorts. My previous life in the provinces had followed the usual path: Pop > Prepubescent hand banging > Two Tone > The Smiths et.al… But now, hey, I was in the capital and needed genres which captured the sheer exhilaration of my new surroundings of the metropolis. I discovered the poetry of Gil Scott Heron, fell into the emergent Acid Jazz scene with JTQ, Mother Earth and Corduroy and discovered Dub.

Though, like Christopher Columbus I discovered nuffin. It was there all along.

Dub- the of which origins lie deep in the studios of Kingston Jamaica and the experimentation of Lee Scratch Perry with its heavy bass, reverb, sampling of riffs, refrains and spoken word seemed the perfect cacophony to encapsulate the multi-cultural epicentre. Come one, come all. Though, like the music, the term Dub is amorphous, elastic and open to numerous interpretations. Dub- to have sex: The Silvertones- ‘dub the pum pum’ and Dub- the ghost in the machine. No, not the title of Gilbert Ryle’s 1967 seminal book delineating the mind/body duality but the idea that the ghost of innocent victims of a violent society (known as ‘duppies’ in Jamaica) are caught in the swirling rhythm of Dub itself.

Course I wasn’t completely new to dub it was just the first time I’d consciously used the term. After all, I was already a veteran of The Clash, had Big Audio Dynamite’s This is Big Audio Dynamite and was blown away by Primal Scream. However, I needed to go a little deeper. I checked out the usual suspects Massive Attack, Leftfield and of course, Dread Zone. Though, there is a shameful disclaimer here. After purchasing their second album Second Light (1995) from HMV East Ham High Street North I haven’t bought anything else by the outfit until now. Which, after listening on loop over the course of the weekend I feel somewhat embarrassed about.

Clearly, it’s my loss.

It’s been a long 22 years. Whilst Second Light captured the optimism of a post-Apartheid, post-cold war world full of optimism and inclusivity their latest and eight album- the semi-eponymous Dread Times- is symptomatic of our deeply divided and troubled times. Gone is the hope of Life, Love and Unity; the anthemic uplift of Little Britain (‘Britain today is a powerhouse’) and the quasi spiritualism of Shining Path. Instead Trump, Brexit and growing intolerance hang over the album like a miasma. That’s not a criticism, in fact it’s all the better for it. From the opening thunderstorm of Rootsman with its old skool dread sound and plea for a better time- ‘Roots music can never die’- to the overcoming of alienation in Mountain– ‘problems of our mind that we have to climb’- Dread Times takes us on an amazingly fresh journey through contemporary society and a seamless eclecticism, which moves effortlessly from dance hall to electronica to reggae. Recorded at Mick Jone’s Bunker Studio we hear the ghosts of The Clash and BAD as the band move into the sublime 16 Hole which should be a anthem for Black Lives Matter- ’16 hole in a dead man chest, Babylon take your hand off the gun- Murder’ to, what I would consider to the album’s apotheosis- Black Deus. Like Primal Scream at their finest the song blends the voices of dissent (in this case MLK, ‘we know from painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor…it must be demanded by the oppressed) with a euphoric beat and refrain of ‘freedom’ which must- if the tangerine man is allowed into the UK- become the soundtrack to what surely is going to become a year of protest and rebellion.

Overall, other than one minor clumsy rhyme on the album’s penultimate track Where is my Friend – ‘has he gone to meet his maker or is he in Jamaica..?’ this is a near flawless offering that not only shows a band at the height of their powers but also, why dub is the urban soundtrack par excellence. Here everything is truly connected into a vibrant London soundscape that not only is very much now but contains the ghosts of those murdered ‘duppies’ trapped in the brutal capitalist machine- for their sake, at the very least, Dread Times demands to be heard.

And rightly so. Of all the services the navy has to be the most sartorially starred. Sure, the army have kitted out the men’s wardrobe with desert boots, fish-tail parkas and khaki chinos- all indispensable style classics for the modern day modernist. Those magnificent men in their flying machines have bombed us with combat jackets, aviator shades and er, pipes. However, neither holds a ship’s candle to the effortless elegance of the jolly Jack Tar.

From bell bottom pants, to Breton tops (more of which in the next post), to the ubiquitous T-shirt the navies of the world have given the male silhouette a classic effortless symmetry that has long since jumped ship for permanent shore leave.

Take the Pea Coat. A standard part of the US Navy uniform since 1881. Like all style icons the origin of the name isn’t clear. One theory is that the cloth initially used in European navies was a corruption of pij an 18th century Dutch cloth used for a worker’s jacket called a pijakker. Another version is that the P stands for pilot’s jacket. Either way the Pea Coat has to be one of the most stylish yet comforting pieces of winter outerwear available. Sure the Overcoat, loved by Mods and Teds alike, is a work of wonder but somehow it can’t quite lose its aristocratic associations- think bowler-hatted Edwardian toffs lording it through Hyde Park. In comparison the Pea Coat is more democratic, more solid, more- manly.

James, Marc and Serge having a pea!

Broad shouldered, double breasted and historically weighing in at an impressive 32 ounces of Kersey wool, in Midnight Blue- barely distinguishable from black- the Pea Coat has always cut an imposing figure on land and sea. A big coat for big men.

And yet…

The buttons: eight shiny black pebbles embossed with anchor stamps. Aren’t they a bit, y’know- kitsch? Well, yes. This is the navy we’re talking about. We don’t have to sing along to The Village People or search out John Paul Gautier perfume ads on You Tube to recognise that the navy has never shied away from homoerotic connotations. In a way that’s part of the attraction. Manly yet sensitive- a man so uber confident in his own fluid sexuality that he can pull off thigh-hugging white bell bottoms, cap-sleeved T-shirts and anchor tattoos without losing face. So, kitsch they may be but the buttons are integral to its charm.

Don’t be fooled though. There’s nothing effeminate about the Pea Coat. I had one in 1990’s London and have to admit it was impossible to walk in it without affecting a shoulder-rolling swagger. Like an urban Frigate it made me feel invulnerable to the buffets and storms of East End life. It’s something about the double breasted heaviness that makes you feel more self assured, more cosseted and safer: smart street-wear that works perfectly for the modern urbanite. We’re not matching this coat with shirt and tie though. This is a coat proud of its utilitarian roots. A coat to be worn with jeans, with simple white trainers, with a sweat shirt- a hoodie beneath even, it’s big enough; a coat that’s fit for purpose; a coat that’s just oh-so cool.

Back to the name, if I’m honest I prefer the Pilot jacket explanation. After all, what’s a pilot but a mariner who guides ships through congested and dangerous waters? So, wrap up warm, put on your Pea Coat and allow yourself to be smartly guided through the choppy waters of life while whistling ‘bright and breezy, free and easy’ as you do

As the British winter deepens and we clamour for our pea coats and scarves, the sun-kissed pages of Jazz Festival take you to somewhere warmer and rather more exotic.

Before Britain swung, and London styles took centre stage, want-to-be-dapper chaps, hipsters and stylists looked abroad for their inspiration. French New Wave film stars such as Jean Paul Belmondo and Marcello Mastroianni provided a sharp, poised silhouette; a far cry from the demob suits, tweed jackets and stifling, stiff shirts of home.

Jazz provided a sound track, and it soon became apparent that the artists responsible for the tunes were themselves every bit as cool as the masterpieces that they played. Thelonious Monk, with his ‘rude boy’ pork pie and slim ties, Dizzy with his ‘geek chic’ specs and beret that gave a nod to the beatniks and of course Miles Davis : classic IVY League in button downs and popover shirts.

Far away from Soho, world renowned music photographer Jim Marshall was catching intimate snaps of some of the greatest modern jazz exponents at the great outdoor festivals in Monterey (1960-66) and Newport (1963). Wonderful unguarded pics of Miles, Thelonious, Duke and Nina adorn the 300 plus pages of Jazz Festival.

Miles & Steve

Then there is the crowd: multi-racial in a much divided country. The black and white photos still bring the warmth of summer to the coffee table. Wayfarers, slim ties, seer sucker jackets, popover shirts and penny loafers demonstrate the effortless cool of the audiences bathing in the summer sunshine and soaking up the “unique energy and soul of these celebrations of jazz” (Nat Hentoff).

Foreword by President Bill Clinton and boasting 336 pages of unique photographs (95% of which have never been published before) ensure that the book is a masterpiece. A book for modern jazz lovers? Yes. An inspiring historical document of the most stylish of times? Definitely. A perfect Christmas gift? Oh (ho, ho) yes!

It’s often the case that despite their original use and source iconic pieces of clothing become firmly lodged in a particular time and place.

The Duffle coat is a case in point, initially worn by Belgian peasants in the town of Duffel (now part of Antwerp); it metamorphosed into a staple piece of outer wear for the British Navy before finally finding its historical apotheosis in the CND march from London to Aldermaston in 1958 and becoming the clothing of choice for committed peaceniks everywhere.

What’s the way to Duffel?

War and peace with a parka.

Similarly the fish tail parka may have begun life as outer protection for US troops braving the cold of the Korean war but it’ll forever be associated with Mods and classic scooter flick Quadrophenia. Of course clothing icons live beyond their allotted high points but is it possible to truly untangle them from their cultural moments in the sun?

Take the Baker Boy’s cap; or the News Boy cap; or the Eight Panel-even the Big Apple?

Jean Paul Belmondo Feeling a little Peaky ?

A multitude of names abound. Essentially an over sized woollen cap that differs from its flat cousin in that rather than being made from a single piece of cloth eight panels are stitched together and meet at the top button creating a fuller, rounder style. Like most classic clothing items its journey meanders through history taking in wide and diverse locations en route.

The Baker Boy cap, said to be a combination of the 14th century Scots bonnet and Irish flat cap, became inextricably linked with working class culture. Not just baker/newsboys but Dockers, steel workers and costermongers wore its utilitarian style with pride. However, it also crossed the classes, becoming a firm favourite among the upper class sportsman and newly emerging topless motorists. A classless classic of the 1920’s only to face its decline in the need to emulate the brilliantine movie stars of the silent screen.

Sicilians Brighton v West Ham crowd 1933

However, the hat lived on in Scilly- for news vendors keen to find protection from the scorching rays of the Mediterranean sun. Unfortunately the Baker Boy or ‘coppola’, giving its Sicilian name, also became the symbol of the Mafia. The ‘coppola’ would be worn ‘storta’ (askew) to show allegiance to the Costra nostra. Not a hat to be worn by the general public then, unless you wanted to be associated with a life of crime. Think Robert de Niro in The Godfather 2. Interestingly, the criminal theme currently extends to the UK with Peaky Blinders– the stylish Brummie gangsters who wear the Baker Boy with razor blades in the cap’s rim.

So, back to the question- how to disentangle?

Well apparently it’s already happening. La Coppola Storta a Sicilian company which are successfully reclaiming the ‘coppola’ for the people. Indeed, the cap is not only becoming a fashion for men, women and children but is also a symbol of opposition to the Mafia and the hat of choice for the ‘addio pizzo’ (goodbye to extortion) movement. Further to this the cap is made of 100 percent natural products in a factory constituting of a 100 percent female workforce in a bid to ‘empower Sicilian women’. What’s not to love? Particularly as the Baker Boy (call it what you will) is miles more stylish than the conservative flat cap- think Ian Wright versus Seth Armstrong;

Grey tweed Brown cord Prince of Wales

Authentic handmade Sicilian Baker Boys from Pellicano Menswear

Italian style versus dour Yorkshiremen- no competition. A cap equally at home atop of a Harrington jacket as a faux Crombie. So, as the Autumn evenings set in wrap up warm and wear your ‘coppola storta’ knowing you’re doing bit for a peaceful revolution whilst looking damn fine to boot.

Mr. Tim Vickery – Friend of Pellicano demonstrates how long a ‘Long Hot Summer’ should be!!

Summer’s light is dwindling in Britain, but as it does so the flame grows brighter and warmer in Brazil and therefore the time is right … for making lists of my favourite songs from my favourite season.

Oh course, for you in the northern hemisphere, summer could hardly be further away or harder to imagine. All the more reason, then, to close your eyes and fly away. You might even want to spare a thought for me in Rio; very soon every lift I step will be full of people complaining about the heat, my woman and two stepdaughters will be a-moaning and a –wailing in despair as the temperature heads over 35. True, I’m not expecting sympathy, but even so I’m sad because I know from 50 years’ experience that all this will end, that after a couple of months the magic will wear off and it will be dark by six o’clock.

In the meantime, a top ten of songs best appreciated in a mental state that befitting that space between Spring and Autumn:

1 – THE PLAYERS ASSOCIATION – TURN THE MUSIC UP

The summer of 1979 was no great shakes (and believe me, I can remember all of ‘em)but it did leave us this gem, the tune I always reach for when real summer arrives in Rio. Blessed with a gorgeous lightness of touch – if mint ice cream could be made into music, this is what it would sound like.

2 – SMALL FACES – EDDIE’S DREAMING

Where on earth did this one come from? Like an East End Lennon and Mac, Ronnie Lane and Steve Marriott were good for each other. Left to their own devices, Lane could overdo the whimsy and Marriott could lapse into becoming a blues shouter. Together they sparked in all kinds of directions, and this one is extraordinary, as if they were plugged into the proto-salsa stuff that Fania were beginning to push in New York.

3 – THE TEMPTATIONS – MASTERPIECE

Summer is not all slush puppies and shorts, you know. From ‘Absolute Beginners’ to ‘Do The Right Thing,’ as the temperature rises so can the tensions – and the mood is caught in this Norman Whitfield symphony. Picked it up when I’d just left school in 83. Bargain basement, and it had to be – no jobs to be found. Was part of my soundtrack, blaring out of the council flat, in that year’s long hot summer……

4 – THE STYLE COUNCIL – LONG HOT SUMMER

…. Talking of which! The song that moved us all on up beyond The Jam. The old group could have tried its hand at something as jaunty as ‘Speak Like A Child’, or as angry as ‘Money Go Round’, but nothing this sensuous. Fresh worlds, new adventures, to be dreamed about with Stevie’s drum pattern going through my head as I cooled my feet in the Trafalgar Square fountain. And all begging a question; if Weller and co could come up with this, then what might the rest of us Saturday’s kids be capable of.

5 – SISTER SLEDGE – THINKING OF YOU

A song that Weller covered a couple of decades later, but as a wiser man than myself once said, the originals are still the greatest. A 1979 B side, someone had the sense to flip it round five years later, and it dovetailed beautifully with another long hot summer in 84. A typically crafted Rogers and Edwards groove, but while some of their stuff could sometimes come across a little cold, Kathy Sledge ensures that this one is warm and touching as well as chic.

Tim sporting his ‘Franco’ button down and ‘Dean’ slim Italian silk tie – pointing out how to get your hands on one!

6 – BOBBI HUMPHREY – HARLEM RIVER DRIVE

An urban symphony that is mainly a showcase for Bobbi’s sublime flute. But the part that always gets me is a vocal line – ‘baseball lights shining in the night.’ All us football fans recognise the magic of this – that first evening game of the season where the match takes place as night gently falls.

7 – OSIBISA – SUNSHINE DAY

Can’t remember if this was the long hot summer of 75 or 76 (have to plead youth, your honour), but can vividly recall the jolt of joy it gave, and still does.

8 – THE YOUNG RASCALS – GROOVIN

One to listen to next to water, with a pull as seductively lazy as the tide, and also one to reminds us that summer, like so many things, is ephemeral. This was always a karaoke favourite of mine, but with the passage of time hitting the high notes is getting harder.

9 – THIRD WORLD – COOL MEDITATION

A perfect vehicle for their brand of reggae-soul. Can’t share their memories of heading for the Jamaican coast, but it does remind me of getting off the train at Brighton and enjoying the wander down the hill to the seafront.

10 – THE BELLE STARS – INDIAN SUMMER

Am I the only one who remembers this? Could never understand why this wasn’t number one for six months. Loved the Casablanca reference and the wistful ‘never again will it ever be that way’ line – until next year, of course, when summer comes round once more!